


Pre Game

by Kasan_Soulblade



Category: Banjo-Kazooie Series
Genre: Banjo Kazooie background, Banjo is not, Banjos parents fail, Gen, Where Kazooie is aware of thier status in a vg, and Tooty is innocent, and kazooie is not above exploiting this, despite Banjo trying to stop her, family centric, so do Kazooies, so very very innocent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-15 00:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2208357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasan_Soulblade/pseuds/Kasan_Soulblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because nothing happens before the game starts.  It's when the switch is flipped and the power's on that things get exciting, at least that's what Kazooie thought. Until she pops into the backpack of a not-so-adventurous-bear of very very little brain several years too early.</p><p>Where Kazooie knows too much, Banjo doesn't have a clue, and Tooty really really shouldn't of been able to follow all the horror stories to find their house at Spiral mountain.</p><p>Oh, and there is this witch upstairs, but not upstairs per say...  It's sorta awkward. After all the dust bunnies wouldn't appreciate rooming with a witch, so she doesn't live with them, but in a way that she's there all the time in spirit she sorta does.  Anyway, they tell Tooty that so she won't invite the witch over for tea some day.</p><p>They also say that upstairs is where Banjo houses all the dust bunnies, because he's too much of a softie to actually set the duster to them.</p><p>It takes a few years before Tooty really realizes that her brother's really just that lazy, that Kazooie lies, and the witch upstairs might not be the nicest person ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sincerity

Pre-game

Sincerity

It was hard to say when it began. How they met was old news, how they acted older.

She was raucous to his quiet, bravado to his humility, sassy to his simplicity, and sometimes when she got too mouthy… Well the back pack zipped shut one way and he was big enough that she couldn’t get out.

In Banjo’s defense he only did it once (not that he didn’t threaten it tons). There’d been torches and pitchforks and come _on_!

How could you _not_ say something about the cliché?

Banjo hadn’t, he’d been running (panting hard too, his honey gut surly bouncing, but she’s been nice, hadn’t said anything about _that_ ) what she’d said was unrepeatable and it got the mob running faster. And some of those in the back, well the words being lobbed to Banjos back were being tossed in her face. And they were really hateful and wrong.

So she might of said a few of them back. Not really knowing what they meant, some of them, but those she did well she added a few personal touches, preened them real pretty besides and let them have it.

The rocks lobbed their way might have been a bit over the top. Granted the torches were too. Still she was nice, she squawked a warning and dove into the backpack. Wasn’t her fault the big bungler lugging her about had said “Duckie, where?” before getting beaned in the back of the head.

The rest of the getaway jog was filled with quiet, once the mobs had called it quits and the woods were deep enough. The huffy panting was sorta quiet and Kazooie had enough time to feel a tiny teny bit guilty. In a parallel Au ‘verse she was quite sure she was angsting right now.

Since she was here, rather than there, and this was canonical (hard to tell when the game hadn’t started yet) the Breegul pushed aside back pack flap. Fresh air and a gasping half grown Banjo were the what greeted her. The swish say had stopped, and a quick look back showed her a tree, and more importantly the tree branch holding the backpack (and her) was quite secure.

So, yeah, canon’verse, no guilt. She tried for that and for maybe keeping her red crown feathers up. She sorta succeeded with the later.

“So… you’re… um… you proved them didn’t you?”

Blue eyes wide a touch wild, he stared at her. Dumbstruck more than likely. He looked dumb. With his vest torn up and smeared with brown and darkened by sweat, it’s real colors lost in deepening forest gloom and the tussle that had preceded riot and them leaving town. His yellow shots were much the same (save yellow, no gloom could dim that cheery hue) and he was clutching his who knows what tooth it was necklace in a tight paw grip that might of been white knuckled under his brown fur. The string had snapped somewhere while they were running, his grip was the only thing keeping it with him.

“Ya know.. that old saying… faster than the average bear. Couldn’t be smarter, I mean, really, duckie… who says that? But still you showed them fast-“

Her beak snapped shut. He helped it along, a paw over it went a long way in cutting her off.

“When I let go.” His voice is soft, his panting had been louder, one eye (the one not swollen shut) was twitching just so. “You are going in the sack. No words, just go in. Got it?”

He leaves her beak open enough she can squawk two syllables, then in she goes. It’s sorta like being back in the egg. With up tangling with down, and her limbs all splayed about. She was sure her egg wasn’t this stuffy though. Still she’s in, no complaints, and for a while all’s dark.

He’s zipped the sack up behind her, stuffy is becoming a mite stale. A moment later and the zipper scrolls back, shiny bit dangling in so with a peck (and a lot of squirming) she can get it open with a peck or two.

On the heels of that revelation is the realization she’s being lifted up, then down. A slow swing (but soft) like and a swish (familiar like), and it’s hotter than before but Kazooie isn’t left hanging.

Banjo wouldn’t leave her like that. Just couldn’t, even though he probably should of.

Never mind this is town three, and three’s supposed to be the lucky one. So far it’s only been known by a name (one Banjo bothered to learn, they all looked the same to her) and the fact its people really liked to throw ricks.

They walked in quiet (well Banjo walked, Kazooie napped a little though it’s stifling) and while they go Banjo thinks. Two sounds, two beats, first time heard, yet for the hearing it’s more precious than sweetest honey ever could be.

“ _Sorry_ ”

Sincere even. Who’d of though it? And though he aches and is hurting more than a mite he’s smiling to the dark woods about him looking like a fool and not caring one bit.


	2. Brush strokes, first stroke

Brush strokes

part one, first stroke

Having a little girl around was… Well it was different. They were so little for one thing. And somewhere along the way he’d gotten a lot taller than he thought.

So of course he watched his step. Minding the blond bobbing ball of fluff and pig tails every time he moved. He might have been made big brother through awful means (Kazooie said worse words, most sharper than her beak and irrepeatable but sadly true) and he might not be the sharpest big brother, but he figured part of being a good big brother was to watch his step.

So he did because Tooty never minded hers.

Games from his childhood long ago (nameless things that he might of called “Let’s go here and there, kitchen edition” had he been asked back then) that had driven the more serious Kazooie wild lost their charm when she played them.

He called her down, and down she came, with a skip hop jump that left him scrambling to catch her.

Still he did, and she giggled as he swung her about and told her not to do that. The stove could have been on. She could have been hurt.

And more to her credit than his she did avoid the store. A week later and a tumble from the fridge top and she learned why climbing up high wasn’t a good idea and had a bump on her head besides.

Kazooie hadn’t been as nice as him about it. “I told you so” was the start of it. The rest… well Banjo was sort of glad Kazooie could say what he couldn’t and wouldn’t and was sad that she had to and it was sorta right.

He cut the red crested breegul off though after she mad Tooty cry. Though Kazooie could say the unspeakable (and would with bells on) she tended to say too much a lot.

But then Banjo never could say enough.

As Tooty swiped her paws about her eyes Kazooie really looked, and though her feathers were fluffed in anger and the quiet living room wasn’t so quiet (the silence sizzled the words had been so harsh) with Tooty trying to hic up a “sorry” past her tears…

Well Kazooie realized. And in her eyes were writ an apology. Tooty just didn’t know how to read it yet.

“Why don’t ya get some ice ‘Zo”?”

With a flutter Kazooie was gone, Banjo took her place. Being bigger, the blue couch sagged and maybe that’s why Tooty leaned against him.

Raking blunted claws though her hair, golden scruff when she wore it down, he minded the tender patch and the tangles as best he could.

Considering the fact he was the King of Klutz’s he found every snag at first swipe. After her yelp and whine he set a paw about her shoulders. She didn’t mid that, or the ice, or him, of Kazooie, after that.

He called the lot a good-bad day and let it go at that.

XXX

After. That night.

Kazooie settled in his back pack (it’s nearly bursting from feather and limbs, her chicken legs dangling from worn out side pocket that weren’t any more her wings tangled with the straps) for the night, him on his bed, Tooty in hers. A house away really, two room to be exact, was between him and Tooty, Kazooie always slept with him, always would, always will. It gave her chances to twiddle him about his snores, and him about her chicken legs, and it was good. Crickets chirped outside, but that was their business, not his. He could tune them out just fine. Kazooie… well he didn’t with her. She’s been preening her arm paw wingies a whil now and it went well past prettying that girls liked to do.

(She’s lost some fathers, discolored dust bunnies were on the floor)

But he didn’t say anything. Just set the covers about his neck and spread out under them and set the edge of his covers just so to keep his lucky salmon tooth necklace company without any risk of snagging.

Finally, about the time his eyes felt heavy Kazooie spoke.

Her timing was always something else.

“We aren’t parents Banjo.”

And she sounded scared, shaking voice and all. They weren’t, not theirs. Kazooie’s had left the big mouth when she couldn’t fly fast enough and long enough… as for his…

Well he’d befriended a _bird_. What kind of bear did that? When he brought her in and hadn’t thrown her out they’d both been thrown out. Banjo sorta figured his folks had been looking for a reason considering his he’d was more fluff than stuff.

Still, Kazooie was acting all scared, she rarely did that and it was weird, beyond weird.

“Nope.”

Because weird notwithstanding they weren’t and he could answer Kazooies not-questions no problem.

“She’s a kid Banjo, we’ve got a kid in our house!”

“Haven’t noticed.” He grinned, because really when was the time he got the upper paw… wing… thing over Kazooie? Never that was. Until now. Concern tempered his snark, robbed it of it’s bite. “Really Kazooie, what’s wrong?”

“We aren’t parents and we have a kid in our house.”

“…Alright… and is that a law thing. That we can’t?”

“I…” A trill, feathers fluffed in fear fell flat. “I don’t know.”

They thought, crickets chirped, a wind whistled against Spiral Mountain’s side.

“Kazooie?”

“What.”

“We sorta know that moms and dads… they aren’t always the best right? I mean ours weren’t, and they left Tooty out and left her to walk here all by herself and that was wrong, right?”

“Yeah, it was wrong.”

“So we aren’t parents, aren’t mom and dad? Because I don’t wanna be… ever…. like mom and dad.”

The thought of being anything like them had him sitting up, blanket bunched in his paws, and paws twisting. He’d of been wringing his paws if it weren’t for the blanket. He’d try not to but would anyway and Kazooie’d tease him because that’s what she did and right now with that awful thought (I could be like them, even by accident) fluttering around he knew he’d say something awful. Just knew it.

“Not all parents are like yours Banj’ people… they treat you off if you aren’t raised right. And part of that means having a mom and dad.”

“Well that’s stupid.” Banjo grumbled letting gravity and soft drag him down so he was lying on his back. The thump was louder than he meant and Kazooie was glaring at him like he’d dropped a plate or slammed a door or something. More to his pillow than her he grumbled. “Parents are stupid.”

She said nothing, but the creek of straps straining against the peg they were hung on told him she was rocking her nest. She could of asked _him_ to do it. He didn’t mind hugs or rocking in the slightest. But she normally said no lately though he really wished she wouldn’t.

Like now, he really really wished she wouldn’t , but she hadn’t asked and he wouldn’t offer, not with that awful feeling’s ghost still floating about in his stomach.

“People… they’re gunna talk.” Kazooie muttered. A nipped feather (she couldn’t really chew with that beak) muffled matters.

“To us or to her?”

“Both, us likely more… Shes’ so little and nice and… us more than her.”

The words sounded more like a “I hope” that whatever it was Kazooie was really saying.

“Well we can take it.” Banjo promised for both of them, because it’d be more him than Kazooie he’s make sure of it. “So who needs parents, we did just fine!”

“She scared me Banjo!” Squawk pushed voice too loud, still Kazooie continued on in a keen. “She can’t _fly_ , and up she went like she _could_ and she _fell_ and…”

“I was scared too.”

His whisper reminded Kazooie that the little cub was just two rooms away. Most of a house. Theirs was a small one and two rooms was far too close and too far, all at once. His words stilled her even the swaying had stopped as she forgot to kick-rock her nest.

“I’m scared too.”

They said nothing else for the night, and maybe Kazooie slept for a little but Banjo didn’t. He just stared at the ceiling until staring hurt and he stared some more.

Little wonder his eyes were blood shot come morning.


End file.
